Opposites Attract

[I was all set to write a blog post today, but then I saw this one in a saved folder! I wrote it a couple months ago, but I couldn't publish it because of some new Blogger rules. I tried everything I knew to do (which wasn't much), but got so frustrated, I just gave up. In reading it today, I decided it was worth another try, so here it is ... if it actually posts when I hit "Publish."]

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If you've read my book, you know that adapting to life on a farm took me many years. Actually, I'm not sure I've adapted, but at least I've given up on trying to keep the house neat and tidy. Dust (and worse) has simply become part of the home decor.

As if learning about farm ways wasn't enough, I've also had to adjust to the farmer! Something that still amazes me is how different Weldon and I are ... in just about everything. I guess it goes to prove that opposites attract.

Here's just one silly example from today.

Weldon had to go to Winston-Salem for a few farm-related things. He asked if I'd like to go along. I thought, "Sure! Might as well. We haven't done anything together in a while." So, off we went.

We hadn't yet made it to his first stop when I told him I had coupons for Krispy Kreme if he was interested. No. He said there was cake at home and he'd put on a few pounds since the rains had kept him indoors a little more than usual. (Weldon could put on 10 pounds and still be thinner than anyone else I know!) He continued to drive. I saw Dunkin' Donuts just ahead. "Hey! You want to try Dunkin' Donuts for a change?" No. And he kept on driving.

On to the task at hand: getting some much-needed part at Ferguson Plumbing. Weldon was standing at the register and there on the counter were two boxes of Krispy Kreme Donuts and one box of Dunkin' Donuts! The cashier said, "Have one." He said it a couple of times, so I peeked inside and saw the box wasn't full. I asked him, "You mean we can have one? Now? Free?" He said, "Yes. Have as many as you like!" Well, I chose a Dunkin' Donuts donut with sprinkles. Weldon declined.

I nibbled on my donut while Weldon continued talking with the guy at the register. Then another employee saw me and asked if I'd like a cup of coffee with my donut. "Well, sure!" He pointed me in the right direction and I'm having ♫ the time of my life ♫. "Have some more! Do you want some popcorn?" I declined, but I surely was smiling!

I suppose the key here might be willpower. I mean, who (besides Weldon) can resist free donuts and free coffee? But from my point of view, it's Live a little! Enjoy! All work and no play makes Weldon a dull boy. But there's no sense in trying to change Weldon or myself. We'll just keep doing what we do and meet in the middle every once in a while. Ain't life grand!

[Another] True Story

I posted this story on my Facebook Author page yesterday. For those of you not on Facebook, I'm posting it here for your reading pleasure.

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I got out later than usual to feed “my” kitties in the big shed last night (nearing 8:00) and saw that Pat hadn’t been out yet. I moseyed on up to the house to see if everything was okay. Pat and Edith were sitting at the table—Pat, looking a little ragged, sipping on a cup of something, and Edith snapping beans. Pat had overworked herself in the sun all day, mowing and picking beans and who-knows-what all, but said she thought she could get out "pretty soon." I got a knife and helped Edith with the beans and then told Pat I would feed “her” kitties and tell Weldon that he’d have to care for the calves by himself. She needed to stay inside and rest. She acquiesced.

Pat asked me to let Annabelle (mama of the “ring-around-the-Rosie” kitties) out of the cage for a while and then put her back in with the babies before bedtime. On my way to the house, I stopped to tell Weldon he was on his own for the evening, and I set Annabelle free as I passed by the barn. At home, I got a bottle of Gatorade and some yogurt and took it to Pat. Then I went to feed cats and kitties at the milk barn and in the big hay barn.

The ring-around-the-Rosie kitties. I just had to name the white one Rosie!

An hour later, I got a flashlight, turned on some yard lights, and went to find Annabelle. Ahhh, there’s a gray cat. I felt her belly. She didn’t feel much like a mother nursing five babies. What if this isn’t the right cat? I know there’s another gray cat about the same size, but this was the only one in sight. I picked her up and put her near the cage. She sniffed a bit and then looked at me, so I pushed her in. She carefully circled around the babies and settled in. She wouldn’t lie down with them if she wasn’t the mother, right? Right? Weldon was still in the milk parlor, so I asked him. He said he knows what the mother looks like, so he’d check in on them before he came home.

An hour later (yes, it was about 10:00 now), Weldon came in. “Did you check on the mama cat and babies?” No, he forgot. Oh well. It’ll be alright, right? Right?

And now it’s Friday morning. I fed “my” cats and had to go to the milk barn to get some milk. As long as I was passing by the big barn, I thought I'd let Annabelle out. She hopped out, but the five babies were spread across the floor of the cage and little Rosie was lying on her back. (It’s not a very big cage, so they weren’t separated by much, but they weren’t cuddled in a nice little kitty cat pile, either.) There was no movement. Oh, my gosh! They’re dead. I looked again, my heart pounding. Not the slightest bit of movement.

I hurried to the milk parlor. "Weldon, I think the five kittens are dead!" "Dead? All of them?" "Yes. They didn’t move. They’re not snuggled up. I don’t think they’re breathing. I must have got the wrong mama!" He immediately went with me to the barn. None of them were moving. Weldon put his hand in, and gently touched and petted them all. "They’re fine." "Fine? Really?" "Yes, they're fine."

Heart attack averted. Barely.

A few minutes later I confessed the whole story to Pat. She said she has had the same kind of experience, but she learned that the babies just spread out if it gets too stuffy and warm for them. I’m pretty sure she was just trying to make me feel better … and it worked. Kind of.

This is, indeed, Annabelle.

The End. Of one more farm story.

Still Farmin'

This is Farm Muse, but it's been a while since I actually posted about the farm. (I'm better at musing than farming.) You may have questions about how Weldon spends him time now that he's "semi-retired." I have answers.

1. Does Weldon still have cows? Yes! Although he stopped shipping milk commercially in January of 2015 and sold his best milkers, he has plenty of cows and calves. He's currently milking nine cows, and just yesterday I had to yell, "Cows are out!"

Youngsters

Milkers

2. Does he still bale hay? Yes! He bales the "good stuff" for the cows and bales the junk just to get it off the land.

Do you see him down there?

A man and his tractor. It's a beautiful thing.

3. Since he doesn't have so many cows, does he still plant corn? Yes, indeedy! But he doesn't have to plant as much as in years past. He planted early corn that's already about 8 feet tall, and the "regular" corn is coming along nicely. This year will be kind of sad because he won't have corn growing on both sides of the road coming into the farm. Neighbors and passers-by will be surprised.

This corn, planted in front of Edith's house, has grown quite a bit since I took this pic.

The corny blogger standing amidst the early corn.

4. Has anything else changed on the farm? Nope. Deer still eat corn. Coyotes still eat kitties. Machinery still breaks down. Following are a few miscellaneous photos.

The manure spreader broke down some time ago ... obviously. Makes a nice planter, doesn't it?

Manure still has to be moved, so Weldon hauls it in this wagon and dumps it on/near the fields.

Flat tire on the truck.

Kitties are still a joy and a heartbreak.

They can also be a "neckbreak" if you don't keep your eyes on the ground as you walk.

 5. So Weldon is as busy as ever? Not quite. He admits he has slowed down some and can't "keep at it" as hard as he used to. His favorite pastime, when morning chores and breakfast are finished, is computer time with his "tractor nut" friends. But, sooner or later, the real world of farming and it's never-ending needs call him back to the great outdoors. Somebody's gotta do it!

A Day in the Kitchen

Whew! I was hoping to get off the farm today and "do something." I did something, alright, but I didn't get off the farm. Actually, I barely made it out of the kitchen.

After breakfast and washing up the breakfast dishes, I started a loaf of bread in the bread machine. I had a black banana that needed using or pitching ... so I pitched it into the bread maker to make Banana-Raisin Oat Bread. I realized I didn't have any milk, so I walked down to the milk barn and filled a jug. Look at that! I got out of the kitchen! After all the ingredients were in the machine and it was merrily doing its thing, I washed up everything I had dirtied in the process, and filled the sugar and flour canisters.

Next, I tackled the "stupid" black raspberry jelly that didn't gel when I made it last week. It was barely syrup consistency, so I opened the jars and poured it all into the pot. I washed all the used jars and got them ready for the new and improved product. I boiled the flopped jelly till it reached the jelly stage and ladled it into the waiting jars. It's now almost the consistency of gummy bears. Not quite, but ... :)

I washed the pot and utensils, wiped the sweat from my brow, and started a raspberry cake. I'm never surprised when I do something goofy in the kitchen. Sooner or later I'm going to drop, knock over, or spill something. Sure enough, the edge of the bowl caught the handle of the measuring cup, spilling the sugar in the process. I started to sing, "Sometimes I feel like a motherless child." Don't ask me where that came from, but it certainly made me laugh.

Cake in the oven. Previous stack of dishes dried and put away. Newest batch of dirty bowls, measuring cups, and spoons washed and stacked. What now?

Hey, I know! As long as all the jelly making paraphernalia is out, why don't I make another batch of black raspberry jelly? I had juiced enough berries last week for two batches. I made the one batch that didn't gel, but surely I'd have better luck today. The timer rang, I pulled the cake out of the oven, and I got everything ready for more jelly.

Made the jelly. Cleaned up the mess. Washed the dishes. Again. Timer went off on the bread machine. I put the loaf on the cooling rack.

Edith called to say she was going to come mow the yard, so I left the kitchen (yay!) and went outside to pick up sticks from the yard. Came back in to get supper on the table. Fortunately, we had leftovers. Thank God for leftovers. BUT, we had fresh raspberry cake for dessert. And then I washed the dishes. Again.

The cake was supposed to have a glaze over the top, but that's just more sugar and more calories that we don't need. Instead, I sprinkled mini chocolate chips on top before I baked it. End result? Delish!

It looks like the new batch of jelly did what it was supposed to do. Weldon will give the final verdict at breakfast tomorrow morning. Or maybe tonight when he comes in from chores. And, yes, I had a little chunk of the bread - because I can't resist fresh, homemade bread.

The photo is a little disappointing. I worked way harder than what you see here :) It was a good day, but I won't do a repeat anytime soon. Whew!

Crap Happens ... Wallowing Is Optional

Two years ago, I learned of National Novel Writing Month and signed up. I wasn't writing a novel, but I had been putsing around with ideas for a book about adjusting to life on the dairy farm for quite a while. It was time to get serious. At the end of November 2013, I had written 50,278 words and was declared a Winner.

I had written a lot of crap, so now I had to see if I could make some sense of my crazy month of putting words on paper. But, did I stick with it? Of course not. Enter NaNoWriMo 2014. I used the month for rewriting my crap—chalking up 50,611 words edited, moved around, and prettified. I was declared a Winner.

Now I was determined that these words would become an actual book. Almost every day of this past year I sat in front of my computer, honed my words, moved chapters around, ditched a lot of junk, and kept on and kept on. Some days I felt like success was getting close, and other days I felt like I had been sucked into some black hole and would never find my way out.

On September 1, a gal from the King Public Library came into the frame shop and, since I was the only one there at the time, we actually conversed :) I told her I was almost ready to publish the book I started two years earlier during NaNoWriMo and she asked if I'd be interested in being on a panel for the NaNoWriMo Kickoff at the library in November.

Now I had a goal. I was determined to have a copy of my book in hand before November 2. I enlisted my daughter Katie to make my book look like the real deal—from the cover to all the interior details. We spent many hours together on the phone and working remotely on each others computers. She's amazing!

Here's the cover:

I submitted the book files via CreateSpace and, after two rounds, I approved the proof copy on October 30th.

On October 31, I published Crap Happens ... Wallowing Is Optional. Click on the link and get yourself a copy :) and after you read it, please go back to Amazon and review the book for me.

NaNoWriMo 2015 is here. I signed up, but haven't written a word so far. Why? Because I'm exhausted. The next big project will be to make the ebook version available. But before that happens? It's the NaNoWriMo Kickoff tonight! I'll have my proof copy in hand and will be beaming like a brand new author.

I discovered this treasure today:

Thanks for reading!

Welcome to My World

Farm life. Ah, it's a beautiful thing. Except when it's a totally gross thing, which it is quite often. I'm not going to spend too much time musing over the two items described below. I did, however, think it was only right that I share my new-found wisdom with you. You're welcome.

Since corn is one of Weldon's favorite topics and an area of his expertise, he has taught me quite a bit about it since I came to the farm. Years ago he showed me corn that looked even worse than depicted in the following two photos.

 

Eeuuww. Gross.

Yes, this is corn. But you don't see a lovely cob, do you? What you're seeing is smut. Here is the definition of smut from the Merriam-Webster Dictionary: any of various destructive diseases especially of cereal grasses caused by parasitic basidiomycetous fungi (order Ustilaginales) and marked by transformation of plant parts into dark masses of spores; also :  a fungus causing a smut.

So, imagine my horror when just last week Weldon was telling me about some visitors who came to the farm to see if he had any corn for sale. He explained that the garden corn was all gone, but there was still lots of field corn. They walked into the fields to check it out and, when they saw the smut on some ears, they were ecstatic. "This is a delicacy in Mexico. Is it for sale?" Weldon told them they could have the smutty corn.

I still get shivers up and down my spine when I picture the black, rotten, moldy stuff. But it turns out that the "delicacy" is only a delicacy before it hits the rotting stage. When it's "good" to eat (I use the term loosely), it looks like this:

Mmmm. Yummy.

We call it smut, but it's also known as Mexican Truffles or Corn Truffles ... or Raven Scat. It's similar to mushrooms, and they're not so bad, are they? I took a tiny little piece of the corn truffle, and it tasted a little like corn. Weldon sampled more than I did, but an itty-bitty nibble was enough for me. You can discover more fun facts about smut on the website Eat the Weeds. There are even a few recipes for the brave of heart.

Next: yesterday's discovery. I was coming in from feeding the cats and kittens and saw a strange blob, seemingly hanging on the side of the house. I didn't stop to investigate, but hurried in to get my camera. I went back outside and approached the wall very cautiously. What the heck? At first I thought it was a baby snake ... hanging by a "thread" along the bricks?? Can't be. But what?

Eeuuww. Gross. Two slugs getting it on. That's just disgusting. (Sorry, God.)

Eeuuww. Gross.

And then they slithered contentedly up the wall. I have no idea where they went or where he or she or they will have their darling little slugs. I suppose I'll meet them in the garden next spring.

Welcome to my world. Eeesh. I've got shivers.

You're welcome.

It Takes a Village

Frankie was born last spring, so now it was her turn to have babies of her own. She had them, but I didn't know where until I heard kitties squalling on Sunday, June 14. I followed the pathetic cries and found four little ones behind this piece of tin.

I feed a whole passel of cats and kittens inside this shed.

I brought them to Mama, who was inside the shed, but she didn't take much notice of them. Over the next two days, she moved them from one place to another, and it didn't seem like she was taking good care of them. They had that hungry cry whenever I came to feed the other cats.

Tuesday evening, I was elated to see them nursing mama.

Unfortunately, they were trying to attach themselves to Grandma Freddie. That didn't last long.

Seen from above, the four babies and Mama Frankie. Frankie is just as black as her mom Freddie, but the flash makes them all look rather washed out.

Wednesday morning and evening, Pat and Weldon skimmed cream from the cows' milk and gave it to the babies. Honestly, I didn't feel like trying to keep them alive. I had lots of things on my calendar and I figured they'd all die anyway. Who wants to deal with that crap?

But, I caved. On Thursday I started giving the little ones kitten milk replacer, morning and evening, via a little syringe. They eagerly sucked it down and, within two days, their yowls were replaced with gentle kitty squeaks.

Cap'n Jack taking a syringe of milk.

I went to give Frankie's babies their milk on Saturday day night. No Frankie. One baby. I called and hunted and called some more. Nothing. So, I gave the little one two or three syringes of milk and went home.

Sunday morning, mom and all four babies came to greet me! Monday evening, Mom and two babies. Tuesday morning, Mom and two babies. Tuesday evening, Mom and two babies. My hunting was futile and my sweetest kitty-cat voice didn't avail. BUT ...

When I continued to the hay barn to feed the cats out there, I was surprised to see Rosemary coming around the bales from the rear of the barn. Hmmm. She didn't usually hang out in the hay barn. She hadn't been "lucky" with her very recent batch of babies, but she had previously proven herself adept at kitty-snatching. As she ate, I walked through the barn. "Where are the kitties? Come on, babies. Where are you?"

I had almost reached the back when I saw little Heddy waddling my way, and there came Tippy. Happy tears ran down my cheeks as I picked them up and snuggled them. Since Rosemary had milk and Frankie wasn't doing so well in the nursing department, I decided to let them stay where they were. Perhaps Rosemary's thievery will pay off this time.

This is Frankie, mother of four.

These are the two who are still with her: Cap'n Jack and Barbossa.

Here's Rosemary with Frankie's other two babes:

Heddy and Tippy

Tonight Pat lay on her belly to look under the pile of lumber where Rosemary has settled in with her adopted babies. And what to her wondering eyes should appear? Four more kittens! We're guessing they belong to LaPli, since she was the only other cat hanging around back there. I checked her undercarriage and she seems to have milk, so maybe she's sharing with Heddy and Tippy, too. The village continues its magic.

Conflicting Views

Green acres is the place for me.

Farm livin' is the life for me. 

Land spreadin' out so far and wide 

Keep Manhattan, just give me that countryside. 

 

 

New York is where I'd rather stay.

I get allergic smelling hay.

I just adore a penthouse view.

Dah-ling I love you but give me Park Avenue.

...The chores.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...The stores.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...Fresh air. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...Times Square

You are my wife.

Good bye, city life. 

Green Acres we are there.

 

Green Acres, lyrics by Vic Mizzy

Penthouse view photo by Anderson Cooper

Macy's photo here

Times Square photo here